Whumptober 2019
by Blitzindite
Summary: Ficlets for Whumptober prompts! Consists of Jacksepticeye and Markiplier Egos. Tags to be added as parts are posted. (warnings for violence and gore in some prompts)
1. Day 1

Day 1: Shaky Hands  
Apocalypse AU  
Warnings: Coma, Illness, Mentioned Eye Trauma/Gore, Mild Blood  
Characters: Dr. Schneeplestein

* * *

Pacing. Back-and-forth, from Seán's bedside, to the cupboards, then back again. Henrik swallowed past the scratchy feeling in his throat as he checked the man's vitals, replaced his mask with a nasal canula so it could be disinfected and then replaced over his nose and mouth.

It took him a few tries to get the tube disconnected from the oxygen supply, and even more agonizingly long moments to reattach the temporary one. The doctor willed his hands to stop shaking so he could do his job. They didn't obey.

Pressing a careful hand against his bandaged eye only when the mask was set aside, Henrik winced. The fabric was damp and had probably been stained yellow by the infection beneath it. It had gotten to the point it needed changed daily, and god if it didn't hurt.

The tickle in his throat crept back up and he coughed into his sleeve.

Flecks of blood stained the white fabric. He swallowed, an iron tang hanging onto his tongue.

With unsteady hands, he slipped his coat off; slipped it into the biohazard bin.

The others didn't need to know.


	2. Day 3

Whumptober Day 3: Delirium  
Monster AU  
Warnings: Major Character Death (Chase is a ghost), Amnesia  
Characters: Marvin the Magnificent, Chase Brody

_(( for Day 2 (explosion) go to my fic Deep Blue Sea. The prompt was used for chapter one! ))_

* * *

Marvin could only watch helplessly as Chase paced: Through the wall, his desk, even straight through the sorcerer once when he didn't sidestep soon enough. It was an unpleasant sensation, to say the least, and Marvin could swear his hair was still standing on end from it.

"Chase?" he coaxed softly.

The spirit only blinked owlishly at him as too-quiet muttering fell from his lips. Marvin could only pick out a handful of words, but it broke his heart. His fingers tugged at forever-bleached bangs, his silver eyes glassy as he looked for something.

"Chase? Hey, you know where you are?"

"Where..?" Breath he no longer needed to take hitched. "Who are..? Urgh!" He brought the heels of his palms against his temples; pounded at them like it would help him remember something. When Marvin stepped forward to try and make him stop, his hands harmlessly passed through Chase's arms. The ghost startled at the action and disappeared.

When he appeared again, he backed himself into a corner.

"Chase?"

Central creaked around them with worry. All the noise did was make him flinch and curl in on himself.

"Hey, buddy. You're okay." Marvin inched forward slowly. "You know where you are?" he repeated.

Chase was shaking as he shook his head, buried it in his arms so he didn't have to look at the sorcerer.

"You're home, okay? Right where you should be. You know who I am?"

There was the little peek he was hoping for. It was only one eye over his arm, but better than nothing. He mumbled something unintelligible.

"C'mon. It's okay. Just look me in the eyes, okay?"

Agonizing seconds dragged by.

Then, softly, "Marv..?"

"Yeah, that's it. Come back to us. You're okay."

"I couldn't—" he choked on a sob and buried his face again. "I didn't…I-I…I didn't remember you!"

"Shh. You did eventually. That's what matters. You're back, you're here with us," the light in Marvin's office flickered as the building agreed, "that's what matters, yeah?"

"…Yeah. I-I guess." When Marvin seated himself stiffly at Chase's side, the ghost relaxed a little. "Marv?"

"Hmm?"

"Why do you seem…older? You've got like…crow's feet."

"I'm 56, remember?"

"…No. No, that doesn't sound right." Chase glared at the opposite wall as he thought. "You're 30. …33. That sounds right. Right?"

Marvin swallowed. "…Sure. Right. Silly me."

Chase had a hard time remembering things sometimes. Fortunately, episodes like that were few and far between.


	3. Day 4

Whumptober Day 4: Human Shield  
Superhero AU  
Warnings: Mild Violence, Amputation, Blood, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Major Character Injury  
Characters: Dr. Schneeplestein (Medic), Eric Derrickson (Runner), Shawn Flynn (Toymaker)

* * *

The Runner was the first to fall; one of Warfstache's portals closing on his legs. With nothing left below the knees, the kid was left to bleed out.

Then Lookalike and Google disappeared from the fight entirely.

Magnificent, possessed by the Glitch, was starting to slow down.

The heroes were losing. The only good thing to come out of it was that the Host had decided to side with them. This time. But they couldn't rely on him. He went with whatever side he agreed with in that moment; they were just fortunate he'd gone with them that time around.

Medic knelt at Runner's side; pulled his cape off to swaddle the young hero, removed the belts from his thigh to use as tourniquets just below the kid's knees. Runner had already passed out. There was so much blood. Too much blood.

Medic swallowed, did what he could with his limited field supplies. He didn't flinch at the gunshots, metal clanging, or shouting. Forced himself not to look at Magnificent's blind, dead eyes. Maggie would be okay. As soon as his body was too exhausted, the Glitch would be kicked out, and his boy would be okay. He always was. He always was.

The Runner was pallid and pulse weak. Weak, but there, and he was breathing. They needed to get him to their little bunker. Tend to him with proper supplies.

"Is okay," he murmured. His fake American accent slipped back into German as he focused. "The good doctor will get you patched up, yes?" Talk, distract yourself from the fact Runner's literally just teenager, he thought with gritted teeth.

He could only find it in himself to curse when fingers tangled in his hair to jerk him away from the injured hero. The Medic swung, but the man's shoulder melted around his fist in an inky mess, then reformed when the hero pulled away.

The Toymaker grinned at him just as another gunshot went off.

Pain. He was vaguely aware of Bro Average shouting something when his legs buckled from under him. It felt like lightning was shooting up his spine and he hissed, pressing a hand against it. Under his glove he could feel warm blood soaking through his suit.

"Y'make a good meat shield, Doc," the Irishman chuckled. "That one would'a got me right in the gut."

Medic grit his teeth. He couldn't find the words to speak as he sucked in a sharp breath, tried to steel himself against the pain from the bullet lodged in his back.

A boot to the back of the head was all it took for him to slump limply against the concrete.


	4. Day 5

Whumptober Day 5: Gunpoint  
Mirror AU  
Warnings: Guns  
Characters: King of the Squirrels, Darkiplier

_(( this AU will never not be weird to write and I love it XD ))_

* * *

Circling. Sizing up his prey.

The King had learned it by watching the forest's predators; mirrored the movements he'd studied with careful eyes. He bared his teeth and the older Ego flinched away.

Dark was far too easy to scare.

Clicking his tongue, the King grinned. He rolled his shoulders under the comfortable weight of his cape, curled his fingers around cold metal and plastic tucked against his back; hidden under the folds of that fur cape.

"The little mouse is lost, hm?" he hummed.

The ringing of Dark's aura raised in volume as anxiety, clear as day on their face, began to spike.

"Now, now." He reached forward and Dark's breath hitched when his fingers found too-long bangs. He tucked them innocently behind Dark's ears so he could look them right in the eyes. "In the wrong city, away from its friends, trying so desperately to avoid the traps before…_SNAP._" A wide grin stretched over the King's face when Dark startled. The grin didn't reach cold eyes. It never did.

The object behind his back clicked; the older Iplier's eyes widened.

Cool metal found itself pressed against Dark's forehead. Their breath stuttered.

A sneer fell over the King's face as he pressed the gun harshly into gray flesh. "Contact Warfstache and tell him to come here. Now. I have a few…_words_ for him."


	5. Day 6

Whumptober Day 6: Dragged Away  
Not an AU  
Warnings: Violence, Blood, Broken Bones, (Possible?) Body Horror  
Characters: Jackieboy Man, Antisepticeye

_(( not the happiest with how this one turned out, but in 31 prompts they won't all be winners ))_

* * *

Part of the old warehouse had collapsed, just barely missing landing on the hero. He coughed against the dust it kicked up, squinted through it in a vain attempt to figure out where the other Septic had gone. He could still feel the static in the air prickling at his skin; Anti was close.

The cuts that had been torn into his arms, his shoulders, chest—they stung as they dribbled blood onto his already-red suit.

Jackie swallowed, strained his ears. Where was the damn glitch?

There.

Squaring his shoulders and setting his feet, Jackie bared his teeth. Wait…until…

Now.

A piercing Screech tore free from the hero's throat; threw the glitch into the concrete wall with a sickening _crunch. _Anti's resulting cry was more like garbled radio static, and he didn't move to stand when he hit the floor. There was blood on the wall from the back of his skull cracking against it.

Jackie knew he'd heal at an inhuman rate, but…

With the help of the Googles, who wanted the glitch dealt with for good, it wouldn't matter how quickly Anti healed himself.

The hero swallowed past the sickness churning his stomach when he grabbed Anti's twisted arm to hoist over his shoulder; the glitch's broken body crackled and he hissed. His head was hanging at an odd angle on a broken neck. Jackie had to force himself not to look or he knew the nausea twisting his gut would get a whole lot worse.

At least, he thought as he half carried, half dragged the eldest Septic, they wouldn't have to worry about Anti anymore. Once he was in that special little cell, he'd be the Googles' problem.


	6. Day 7

Whumptober Day 7: Isolation  
Superhero AU  
Warnings: Kidnapping, Small Spaces; mention of Needles, Drugging  
Characters: Jim (Lookalike)

* * *

Where had the others gone?

Where was _he?_

Lookalike—Jim—curled in on himself. It was dark. He couldn't see anything; not his own hands in front of his face, nor where he was. He remembered Google stabbing a needle into his neck, then…

Then he woke up here.

Did the others even know he was gone? Was the fight still going on? Had any of them been ki—no. Don't think that way, he scolded himself even as the thought gnawed on the back of his mind.

He wrung his bare hands together. His gloves were gone. His boots, weapons, mask; he was left with only his jumpsuit. Did that mean Google knew his identity now? Oh, god…

Jim backed himself into a corner. He was in a box; at least, that's what it seemed like. Small, metal, cold. So cold. So quiet. When he tried to activate his powers, he yelped as something shocked his ankle. An anklet. Military-grade, meant to stop captive inhumans from using their abilities.

He took a shaky breath and buried his head in his knees.

The others would come for him. They'd find him.

Of course they would.


	7. Day 8

Whumptober Day 8: Stab Wound  
Not an AU  
Warnings: StabWounds, Knives, Blood  
Characters: TheHost, Darkiplier, Dr. Iplier

* * *

They had been in the middle of a conversation when the Host had paused. His brows had furrowed; narrations too quiet for Dark to hear falling from his lips.

Then he was bolting out of the house with Dark on his heels. Why was he in such a rush?

"Host?"

The younger Iplier didn't answer. Instead he stopped abruptly and Dark nearly ran into him.

"Host!"

"The doctor has been injured," was all he said before he was off again. He was kicking mud up at his coat, at Dark's freshly cleaned dress pants. His hair gel wasn't meant for him to run straight against the wind, his hair thrown into a mess that made it look like he truly had gone for a long run.

"Well? Where is he?" Dark demanded in the short time that the Host had stopped again.

No answer. The Host disappeared around a corner.

When Dark caught up again, Host was kneeling over the doctor. Edward was awake but his eyes were glassy. Confused.

A bloodied knife lay at his side, a deep wound just beneath his sternum weeping into the doctor's pale shirt. He was too pale. Far too pale.

"Darkiplier," the Host started as he slipped off his coat to press tightly over the wound, "must teleport the doctor to Dr. Schneeplestein's lab immediately."


	8. Day 9

Whumptober Alternate Prompt 1: "Wake Up"  
-done in place of Day 9's prompt, Shackled, due to lack of ideas for it  
Superhero AU  
Warnings: Bullet Wounds, Swearing, Concussions, Head Trauma  
Characters: Angus the Survival Hunter, Shawn Flynn

* * *

"Go! Don't fuckin' wait up for me!" Bloodhound barked as she shoved the other forward. He had a hand pressed to the bloody wound in his thigh, but he was still running. They'd lost the police. For now. "Your apartment; closer ain't it?"

The Toymaker nodded. "Gotta get up to my floor. Fire escape's usually open."

His building was close; just across the alley. They'd have to get from their roof onto the escape opposite them. But Bloodhound was slowing down.

"We can get to ground-level over—"

"Don't fuckin' got time. Y'hear the sirens don't ya?"

Of course he heard them. How could he miss them? "'Hound, you ain't makin' that jump—"

He took the lunge anyway, because of course that thick-headed idiot did. The Australian had jumped; managed to catch the railing of the fire escape under his arms with a sharp hiss at the bruising impact. Toymaker just shook his head and grumbled to himself.

His grumbling turned into a panicked shout when 'Hound's blood-slicked hand slipped as he tried pulling himself up; sent him to the ground below, head making audible contact with a metal dumpster.

"'Hound?!" Toymaker scrambled, nearly tripping and falling off the roof himself, for the ladder that would take him to the ground. Take him right next to his partner. He slid down the ladder; ran for Bloodhound's side when his feet had only barely made contact with the ground. "'Hound? Hey, hey, c'mon!" He shook the other man's shoulders, checked his pulse. Like his breathing, it was shallow, but there. His hair was coated in blood and he didn't react to the Toymaker.

He was smaller than Bloodhound; physically weaker. He couldn't carry the other man!

"C'mon, 'Hound, wake up! Wake _up!_"

The Toymaker's shoulders stiffened and expression hardened when a bright beam of light appeared at his back. He shrugged off his bag of goodies (cash stolen from an ATM and a fake card reader) as the familiar order cut through the alley:

"Hands in the air!"


	9. Day 10

Whumptober Day 10: Unconscious  
Superhero AU  
Warnings: Illness  
Characters: Dr. Schneeplestein, Marvin the Magnificent

_(( for reference, Marv's about 13 here. Something kinda sweet compared to the rest of the month ))_

* * *

The boy was asleep on the couch, a blanket pulled up to his chin and a bag-lined bucket nearby. He slept fitfully, occasionally trying to throw the blanket off or murmuring something unintelligible. Each time, Henrik would patiently fix the blanket and wipe the sweat away from Marvin's brow; brush his hair away from his eyes.

"Shh," he soothed when Marvin startled awake to the cat jumping on his chest. "Daisy, no, no." Henrik went to pick her up to set her on the floor, but Marvin nudged his hand away.

"S'okay. She can lay there." He fought with the blanket to get an arm out to scratch the feline between the ears. His free hand rubbed at tired eyes. "Did you call the school?"

"Yes. Your teachers will send audio files of their lessons."

"M'kay." He yawned and pulled the blanket up further. "I thought you worked today."

"I traded my shift." Henrik leaned forward to rest a hand over the boy's forehead. His powers allowed him to forego use of a thermometer. He'd learned this was more accurate, anyway. "Wanted to make sure your fever didn't get worse."

Marvin rolled his eyes at that. "You worry too much."

Henrik chuckled and ruffled his hair. "Is my job, yes?"

"You're embarrassing," he mumbled, pushing the man's hand away.

"Yes, yes. Aren't parents supposed to be?"

"Well you're _too _good at it."

"Very good," he grinned. "How is your stomach?"

"Um. Kinda settled? Sort of? I still don't think I could eat anything…"

Henrik hummed as he nodded. "Why don't you try going back to sleep? You need rest."

"Can I have another blanket?"

In the short time it took for Henrik to find another small blanket and return to the living room, Marvin had passed out again with Daisy curled against his neck. He brushed the boy's hair out of his face and draped the new blanket over him, careful not to wake him.


	10. Day 11

Whumptober Day 11: Stitches  
Mirror AU  
Warnings: Swearing, Needles  
Characters: Wilford Warfstache, Jacques Septique

_(( I'm pretty "meh" about this one; sorry about that! ))_

* * *

"Idiot," Jacques muttered.

Wilford barely reacted; to that, or to the needle threading through his cheek. He could feel the tear with his tongue. It went all the way through.

"What _happened?_" The former artist sent a glare his way, while their dog made a noise as if to emphasize the question.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Wilford muttered to himself. Ever since Jacques had fallen into the role of their medic (he didn't dare call the Septic a doctor. Compared to Iplier and Schneeplestein, as much of a danger they were to their "patients," Jacques was too ill-equipped and ill-knowledged to be a proper doctor) they'd taken it upon themself to worry about _anything _that went on with the Hideaway's occupants. It was maddening!

"Well?"

"Just…a bit of a skirmish." Muse whined and pawed at his thigh. He could have sworn the Doberman was glaring at him.

"I _see _that, Will. But what _happened?_ Looks like they were trying to give you a fucking Glasgow."

"…Edward. Happy?"

The needle clinked when they dropped it on the table Wilford had hopped up on. Jacques leaned in then, studying the wound with a far more careful eye than before. "…You are very, verylucky you were not _drugged! _Or-or poisoned! We all know what that fucking doctor is like!"

Wilford waved it off. "I'm fine, aren't I?"

"You got lucky." Jacques shook their head and fished through their kit for a new needle. This time, Wilford did grimace when the sharp object was shoved through the tear in his cheek. "Just…be careful next time. We cannot lose anyone else."


	11. Day 12

Whumptober Day 12: "Don't Move"  
Mirror AU  
Warnings: Swearing, Eye Trauma, Knives, Violence, Amputation, Blood, Gore, Major Character Injury  
Characters: Dr. Iplier, Dr. Schneeplestein

* * *

Cold eyes stared down at the other Ego strapped to the table. He didn't so much as twitch as Edward spat and cursed, tried to pull free only to succeed in scraping up his wrists.

"What the fuck are you _doing, _Henrik?!" His feet, left free, kicked violently in an attempt to strike something. Preferably Henrik.

"Getting even, of course!" he said, far too cheerily. One eye was bright, giddy, the other dead, clouded, surrounded by scarring that passed over the cornea in some places. Nail scratches that had scarred over when the infection finally died away.

Getting even. Edward swallowed as he stared the blind eye down. Henrik's idea of "even" was a cadaver on his table.

"You kill me, the King will kill you in turn." He grinned at that. He had to have him with that. Henrik didn't work for the King, but only an idiot would go _against_ him.

The only answer was a hum as the Septic turned away. He was messing with tools somewhere above Edward's head, out of his view.

When he returned, he had a cleaver. Edward tensed. Henrik always wore the blood-stained apron, and he was a burly man. If he hadn't looked like a horror movie butcher before, the cleaver sure finished the picture.

"Yes, yes. But…" He tapped the blunt side of the blade just under his damaged eye. He was still grinning. "The King is a firm believer of 'an eye for an eye.' As long as I don't kill you, he'll give me my way in this. Wonderful, yes?"

"What?! No, no—"

"Aw, so big and bad when he has his poisons, but the little baby when roles are reversed. Tsk, tsk."

When he moved to brush Edward's hair away from his face, the Iplier bared his teeth and snapped at Henrik's fingers. The other doctor jerked away with a curse.

Then he looked thoughtful. Why did—

"What a _wonderful _idea, yes?" he grinned. "Hold still."

Edward tugged again; twisted his body until he could pull a leg up and ram a foot against Henrik's ribs. The Septic reared back, coughing and gasping as he tried to regain his breath. Edward offered a triumphant grin regardless of how brief he knew that victory would be.

Now, Henrik's smile was gone. The cleaver in a white-knuckled grip. "I said _don't. Move_," he growled.

He circled behind Edward again and grabbed his forearm; pulled on it harshly until his wrist was forced into a painful angle in its restraint. Edward hissed, fingers twitching, but he didn't dare try to pull away; it would break his arm.

"Henrik, don't." No answer. "Henrik? Hen—_argh!_"

A scream tore from his throat when the cleaver came down on his hand.

His voice broke, back arching, when the weapon came down a second time, and finally a third. He could hear bones crunching beneath it, joints snapping as they were broken out of their places. The blade screeched as it finally met and dragged across the blood-slicked table beneath.

Henrik said something. He couldn't make out the words over the thundering of his own heart and too-heavy breathing.

Two fingers, part of the third, hacked away. He choked on a sob when Henrik grabbed the hand and squeezed; a tendon popped, exposed bones scraping together.

"Next time," he hissed through bared teeth. He grabbed a handful of Edward's hair after tossing the weapon aside; forced him to look at the severed fingers laying on the table, "it will be the whole hand."


	12. Day 13

Whumptober Day 13: Adrenaline  
Monster AU  
Warnings: None  
Characters: The Host (Isaac Iplier), The Author (Arthur Iplier)

_(( they're both late teens/early 20s here, so this is pre-vampire Host. I don't usually write Host and Author as seperate characters, but that's what ended up working best for this AU ))_

* * *

"Hurry up!"

Crunching leaves under pounding feet.

Too-big shoes caught to send the younger of the brothers tumbling.

"Isaac!"

Hands on his sleeve, hauling him back to his feet; don't let go. Keep running.

Isaac risked a glance back. It was still there. Following. Chasing. Even limping with a badly injured leg, the werewolf kept her pace with fangs bared, silver eyes too bright in the darkness. She looked so, so hungry.

A whine surfaced in Isaac's throat. "It's gonna catch us!"

"We're almost to the gates; keep going!"

His lungs were screaming, legs burning, body begging him to stop. They were both moving on pure adrenaline. Keep going, don't let it get you.

"Did it get you?" Arthur demanded as he took hold of Isaac's sleeve to drag him around a sharp turn.

"J-just a scratch. No bites."

They were both panting. Arthur had somehow—_somehow_—managed to hold onto his bat the entire time. Even with sweat-slicked hands, even as their hearts were lunging into their throats, the Hunter-to-be held his weapon close.

Isaac had dropped his as soon as the chase was on.

Defenseless, as his brother dragged him on. Dragged him toward the gates surrounding the city. To the armed guards who would protect them from the beast, check them over for bites, possession, being impostors (Shapeshifters were becoming more common in the area, the bastards).

They'd get an earful, possible house arrest, for being outside the gates past curfew. But they'd be alive.

They just had to get there before the wolf got them.


	13. Day 14

Whumptober Day 14: Tear-Stained  
Apocalypse AU  
Warnings: Illness, Blood, Dying Character  
Characters: Jackieboy Man, Dr. Schneeplestein

* * *

It had gotten to the point Henrik could no longer tend to Seán's comatose form. He could barely stand on his own, let alone change the man's fluids. He was kept in a separate room, and the others had to wear their masks and gloves just to interact with him; had to take a decontamination shower before reentering the main room it was getting so bad.

They couldn't risk catching whatever he had. They _really _couldn't risk giving it to Seán with how weak his immune system already was. It would kill him in no time if he caught it, and they'd never have the chance to find a way to bring him out of the coma.

The doctor coughed wetly into his arm, startling Jackie as he filled a water glass.

The fit stretched on for too many long moments before Henrik finally slumped tiredly into the bed. Blood stained his sleeve and mouth and Jackie swallowed. He was getting worse.

"Hey, Schneeps… How you feelin'?" What else could he say at this point, really?

"Thirsty." Henrik grimaced as his voice cracked. Jackie could just imagine how raw his friend's throat was. He could only hope it wasn't too damaged.

"Here…" He helped Henrik sit up and guided the glass to his lips; had to help him lay back down because he just…he didn't have the strength anymore. Jackie could feel, just in Henrik's arms alone, that he'd lost weight. Too much weight, in too short a time. He looked so, _so _exhausted on top of it all.

Henrik's remaining eye, the other bandaged up tight, followed Jackie as he paced the room adjusting supplies, cleaning the glass, checking Henrik's IV fluids. "I…I wish I could see your faces." His voice was low, scratchy; Jackie barely heard him.

"I know. Once you're better, we won't have to wear our masks around you."

Henrik smiled—_smiled—_but it was so…sad. Like he was on the verge of crying. It broke Jackie's heart. "I-I'm not going to get better. We both know that, yes?"

"No. Don't talk like that." He refused to accept it. No. His best friend _was not _going to die. "Just…sleep. Please. You need it."

Henrik managed a passing snag of his sleeve; tugged with what strength he could manage. "My friend…the more you deny, the more it will hurt."

"No. No, you're _not—_" Jackie's breath stuttered and he felt tears slip free. Even if Henrik couldn't see them past tinted goggled, it looked like he was fighting his own. "We'll find a way to cure you," he whispered.

"Don't promise what you have no control over." He tugged again; rested a shaky hand against Jackie's back in a weak hug. All Jackie could do was tuck his head against his friend's chest and cry.


	14. Day 15

Whumptober Day 15: Scars  
Not an AU  
Warnings: Violence, Knives, Burns, Character Injury, Blood, Zalgo, Reopened Scars  
Characters: Marvin the Magnificent, Antisepticeye, Chase Brody

_(( been thinking about this for a while for my version of canon(ish) Marv. Think I'll roll with it_  
_I also suck so much at fight scenes but I really wanted to try one for this prompt! ))_

* * *

Ground torn up around them. Swings torn off their chains. A dented slide.

They'd shown up just in time. Jackieboy was ushering the kids and their parents to safety. That had left Marvin to dish it out with the glitch; to practically destroy the park around them.

He listened intently for the static, aura raging around him with the magic ready to strike. He bared teeth that were maybe a little sharper than they should have been, narrowed sightless eyes. Faint static—so faint he could almost be fooled into thinking the glitch had left—pressed at the edges of his aura.

Marvin spun sharply on one foot, arms outstretched to send a pulse of energy at Anti to throw him back. The glitch didn't go far, but it was far enough to keep him out of arm's length. That's all he needed. Keep that…_thing _far enough away that it can't get a hold of him.

Giggling. It used to scare him. Used to make his hair stand on end and anxiety squeeze at his throat.

He could imagine the tilt of the head. The way it held the knife with the point dancing across its fingers. The way it bared its fangs in a cruel grin.

"The hell you want?" he growled. "Cut the crap and spit it out."

"T̡ch. Y͞ou'̵rȩ no fųn͏ ánym̸o̴re, Kit͠tȩn~̕" Anti started circling; all Marvin could do was follow his voice. Don't give it access to your back, he thought. That's the worst thing you could do right now. "D̀ò ̕you ̡s͟till ̨like ģa̶mes? ̧I͜'vè ͜got su͞ch a _fu̷n_ o͡ǹe i͡n mi̵nd."

"'Games'? What kind of idiot do you think I—" Wait. Playground.

Marvin's eyes widened and he spun away from the glitch.

He winced when the knife that was thrown nicked his ear and clanged as it hit a metal pole.

"Y͘o͏u'͜ve go̷t c͘ove̴r͝ ̵here̕,̧ Cat͝.͏ ͜Use ͢it!" He could hear the grin in Anti's voice. Of course this would be a game to him. Gotta make murder fun, huh, Anti?

A second knife (well. Anti only had the one, but it always returned to him after exploding in a burst of particles) tore a hole in his cape before he finally ducked away.

He could hear the glitch's footsteps over the wood chips. There was a slight pause each time right before he threw the knife. Marvin felt a twang of anger as he ducked around a plastic slide. Anti was taking it easy on him. Mocking him, without even needing to say anything.

Marvin leaned his head back against the slide. All he could do was listen for the footsteps to come closer. Move around the object.

There they were.

This time he lunged completely opposite where Anti had anticipated: Right at the glitch's ankles.

A tangle of limbs, spat curses, fingers clawing for any vulnerable spots they could reach. The knife sliced through Marvin's shoulder and he hissed as he held white-hot magic against the glitch's chest. A foot to the magician's knee that brought a choked curse when it cracked, pointed nails to Anti's cheek.

His mask was knocked away while he wrestled the knife from his opponent's hand just to throw it aside.

His hands found Anti's neck. He could feel the blood on his fingers, smell it as he wrapped his hands around to burn it with too-hot magic. Anti's scream was garbled with static and the magician could only bare his teeth. Marvin dug his nails into the other Septic's flesh, willed his magic to get hotter even as it tugged at his energy, willed it to agitate and further damage the tear across Anti's throat.

Something hard struck him in the side of the head. Throbbing; it hurt. He felt himself shoved; their places were swapped. Anti was kneeling on his chest and one arm with his hands around Marvin's throat. Every time he tried gasping for air, Anti squeezed; drew blood as he buried his claws in Marvin's neck.

One hand moved. Something cold tapped his forehead.

Anti had his knife back.

Marvin was pinned.

He felt lightheaded as his air was cut off. He couldn't think straight. Couldn't be bothered to worry about the blade inches from his face.

Anti said something. What was that?

He loosened his grip and Marvin gagged when he tried to breathe in too much at once. Coughing. He could smell burned flesh.

The blade pressed close to one of his eyes.

"Thes͠e hàv͏e̕ he̶aled so̸ ͢nice͘l͡y," the glitched purred. He lightly traced the blunt of the blade over the scars mapping Marvin's face, brought the point within an inch of pale eyes that had no idea just how close it was. Marvin knew it was there, hovering, a silent threat, just…not exactly _how _close. "To͞o ͏ni͢cel̶y."

Marvin squeezed his eyes shut when the knife found a scar and pressed down hard enough to draw blood. He bit his tongue when Anti moved to another, then another. As each and every one was traced over, a whine surfaced in his throat.

"Stop…"

"Are̕ tho̧s͠e ̨tea̕rs ̨I̛ seȩ?" The blade moved to press against his jugular. Marvin's breath hitched.

The blade never came down, but he flinched to the sound of gunshots. Anti laughed, but the weight on his chest disappeared; the static in the air began to fizzle out.

"Marv?! Hey, hey, c'mon, man!" A new weight at his side. Chase. Jackie had probably tried the house again for someone to come help out. "Oh, god…" He wanted to hide his face. Put his mask on and go hide away in his room. "Hey, man. Can you hear me?"

A little nod.

The knot of his cape was undone and he started coughing. He hadn't realized how tight it was.

"Here…"

Marvin hissed as the silky fabric pressed over some of the bleeding cuts.

"I know, I know. Jackie's just about done, okay? He'll fly ya home." He could hear the Disappointed Father slip into Chase's voice then. "Why the hell did you try fightin' him? You were just supposed to distract 'im while Jackie got those people to safety. Just…_None _of us can handle him ourselves, Marv."

"I…I thought I could…"

He shoved the cloth away and covered his face with trembling hands. Fingertips traced over each scar. Each one reopened. They hurt. They _hurt._


	15. Day 16

Whumptober Day 16: Pinned Down  
Apocalypse AU  
Warnings: Guns  
Characters: Chase Brody, The Host, Dr. Iplier, Eric Derrickson

* * *

Okay, _maybe _he wasn't supposed to be out on his own. _Maybe _he'd sneaked out of the Hideaway without telling anyone. _Maybe _they'd started sending panicked messages through their walkies to the point he'd turned his off completely.

_Maybe _he was realizing this had been a really, _really _stupid idea.

There were other survivors in this building. He could hear them. Could see long shadows cast by their lights.

Hey, maybe they'd be just the people he needed to help with their situation.

Or…maybe they'd just bash his head in, steal his supplies, and be on their were good for that.

So…He gave it a fifty/fifty.

Two voices. Both muffled behind masks. The quieter one sounded timid (timid? he thought. that's not a good trait to have out here) and the second sounded tired. Like he just wanted to sleep.

So, Chase, he thought. Just gonna…waltz in and hope they don't attack you?

God, he really hadn't thought this—

He gasped as he was grabbed from behind and thrown to the ground. Something cold pressed against his neck; any harder and it would start choking him.

"Edward!" A third man. Most of his face was hidden, be it by his mask or the bandages wrapped tightly around his head. One eye, clouded by a cataract but still staring him down, peered out from beneath it. The goggle over it had a little crack at the top, but the man didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn't care.

Chase tried to push the object—an aluminum bat, he realized—away from his neck. The other man growled and opted just to use more force.

"Okay, okay!" he offered instead, putting his hands up.

The other two came running. The tired one was more light-footed, while the quieter of the two sounded like he was wearing metal boots. They carried a gun and crowbar, respectively. Chase swallowed. He tried to sit up, just a little bit. Just let me talk, he thought. If they haven't killed me yet, then—

The third man shoved the bat, forcing a gag from Chase as he was pinned back against the floor.


	16. Day 17

Whumptober Day 17: "Stay With Me"  
Not an AU  
Warnings: Major Character Injury  
Characters: Bingiplier, Google Oliver, Google Blue

* * *

Wilford hadn't _meant _to do it.

Hah. Right.

Maybe you shouldn't mess with things you don't know how to work, Oliver thought bitterly.

There were tools and an unfinished project pushed to the floor to make room on one of the workbenches. Blue knelt beside it, tools held close as he worked hurriedly.

The eldest had his eyes narrowed in focus, hands buried in Bing's torn-open chest.

It still hadn't stopped sparking.

A high-pitched whine left the damaged android. Oliver couldn't help but grimace when Bing tried to speak and all that came out was a loud popping.

"Easy…" he murmured as he cradled his friend's head with one hand. His free hand followed behind Blue for the fine-tuned repairs the eldest didn't have sensitive enough fingers for. "We've got you."

Instead of the nod he expected, the nod they'd gotten every time now, Bing seized as something in his chest screeched.

"Blue!"

"Move your hands!"

Smoking. Something groaned and snapped to send a sharp piece of metal into the wall. The building around them creaked as it was embed into white plaster: Worried, wondering, Incorporated flickered the room lights. When Bing didn't respond, it fell silent; Oliver could feel the anxiety rise in its aura.

"Bing? Bing!" The orange light of his eyes had been replaced by errors. "Hey, hey! We've got you, just…"

Blue went straight back to work when it was safe. The synthetic skin of his hands had burned away in some places from all the sparking. He growled as he pried something broken away to toss aside.

He froze when, for too many heart-stopping moments, Bing's core started to flicker.

"Don't do this," Oliver hissed. "Come on, just…stay with us."

When the flickering stopped, they both dived right back in to try and save the other android.


	17. Day 18

Whumptober Day 18: Muffled Scream  
Not an AU  
Warnings: Kidnapping, Blood, Drugging, Eye Trauma, Torture  
Characters: The Host

_(( somewhat a continuation of a post from a looong time ago where Hostie was drugged and hinted toward being kidnapped. The kidnapper, ah…kinda took on a mind of their own? I have no idea how this happened ))_

* * *

When he came to it was with a groan at the stiffness in his neck. Like he'd fallen asleep sitting up with his head just…hanging there.

He furrowed his brows when no words came out in an attempted narration. Cottonmouth made his tongue thick and heavy, uncooperative. He swallowed, tried to move. His arms were asleep. The delayed realization hit him that he was cold; where had his coat gone?

Opening his mouth again, his teeth audibly clicked together when something forced it shut. It was cold, metal.

"Ah, ah. Quiet, now."

Host jerked away from the hands tightening the—what was it? A muzzle? Muzzle. He'd been _muzzled_; he was totally blind!—around his jaw. He couldn't open his mouth, could only growl at the figure he could hear…somewhere. The room echoed strangely. It was hard to pinpoint them.

He was on a floor—concrete—he realized.

"Host now, is it?"

He couldn't hear their steps, now. Couldn't tell if they were standing right in front of him, or pacing, or behind him with a new needle. A new drug. Too quiet. Far too quiet.

"Used to be so much more demanding. Frightening." They _laughed. _How could they laugh?

…Did they sound familiar?

Host twisted in their direction when his bandages fell away. They clicked their tongue.

"_Whew_—now ain't those eyes _nasty. _Da~mn."

His arms were still tingly, as were his legs. They were too heavy; he wasn't even sure they moved when he tried moving them. What had he been drugged with?

"So helpless. Vulnerable." He could _hear _their smile. "Funny, isn't it, Author?"

His blood ran cold.

He knew their voice sounded familiar. One of the Author's characters. _"Characters."_ Duke, was it? Or was that the name he'd given them? He could imagine their face, now. Their wide, scared eyes, their trembling as they were written into a new scene they didn't want to be part of. He could have sworn the Author had killed them off.

Apparently not. Did that make three characters he'd lost?

Something metal struck the ground and rang out. A pole? Cane? Something long and narrow. That's all he could tell.

Couldn't move, couldn't See. Incorporated would have seen, he'd been in its sight. It would have told anyone inside; they'd be looking. They—

His thoughts were shattered when the metal…_something, _jabbed him in the eye. Empty eye socket. Sensitive—bleeding—_hurt._

A scream caught behind the muzzle when it happened again, with more force, with fury and anger behind it.

What had he done? What had the Author done to them? He couldn't remem—

Again.

He threw his head back against the cement, could feel fresh blood track down his cheeks mixing with hot tears.

They were barefoot, he realized numbly. That's why he couldn't hear their steps.

He jolted as something sliced across his shoulder. The blade easily tore through his thin dress shirt into the skin beneath. They growled something far too quiet for him to hear. Another cry, silenced by the metal holding his mouth shut, when the blade was buried hilt-deep into his shoulder.

Where were the others? Hurry.


	18. Day 19

Whumptober Day 19: Asphyxiation  
Not an AU  
Warnings: Possession, Choking  
Characters: Jameson Jackson, Jackieboy Man

* * *

"_Jackie! Stop!" _The speech slide was swatting away; it went spinning into the nearby wall and flickered out.

Jameson yelped and ducked as the toaster was thrown at his head. He could hear the static, could see it in Jackieboy's eyes. He wasn't himself. That much was clear.

That didn't change the fact Jameson was terrified for his life.

"_Central!" _he begged. Didn't their home know what was going on? _"Help me! Please!" _He skidded around a corner, sliding, crashing into the wall. Feet pounding, bare socks slipping. Stay on the carpet. Stay ahead. Keep a hall between you.

A little creak. Weak, tired. What had Anti done to their home? The others were out. He was on his own.

Keep to the short halls, he thought. Jackie won't—can't—fly if the corners are too tight. But he was still faster. He'd catch up. Jameson could already feel his sides aching.

When Jackie caught up, it was in the blink of an eye. He yanked the youngest back by the collar of his shirt. Wrapped a hand around Jameson's neck.

Flailing, kicking, clawing—anything. He couldn't get Jackie to release.

The hero just tightened his grip, arm against his throat.

Jameson gagged, tried to pry the arm away. Jackie was stronger. So much stronger.

His fighting died down as darkness encroached on his vision.


	19. Day 21

Whumptober Day 21: Laced Drink  
Superhero AU  
Warnings: Alcohol, Drugging  
Characters: Jacques Septique

_(( ehh I'm not happy with this one :/  
For Day 20, go to Chapter 5 of Deep Blue Sea!))_

* * *

It was a popular bar. A common place for Jacques to sneak into. They didn't particularly like crowds, but it meant getting away from their partner's prying gaze for a while. Besides, no one paid any mind to the scrawny little art critic at the counter with their head down.

Plus, the bartender knew what they liked they were there often enough. That was sure nice.

The only downside, they mused as their hand reached to pet empty air, was its no-pets-allowed policy. Unsurprising, but Jacques really did hate leaving Muse home alone.

When they took a drink, it was stronger than they were used to. They glared down at their glass, glanced toward the bartenders. One was a common face, the other new. Maybe the new guy had prepared it. Jacques huffed.

Whatever, they thought. Don't get upset over it. The city considered the Artist a villain, but that didn't mean they—in or out of costume—had to start berating an employee, now, did it?

Their second drink—prepared by the regular bartender that time around—came shortly after. They turned away when someone brushed past them a little closer than they would have liked. Plenty of room, they thought with a roll of the eyes. Give a little space.

Turning back, they took a long drink.

That one didn't taste right either. But the regular had made it. She never messed up their order.

Jacques stood to try and get her attention. Maybe she'd mixed it up with someone else's.

The floor spun beneath their feet and they were forced to grab the counter. They pressed a hand to their eyes. Everything was starting to spin slowly.

A hand on their arm. They blinked up at the figure, couldn't make out their face.

"Who..?" they managed. Squinting didn't help.

"There's our little art critic," the figure said too cheerfully.

That voice. An artist. He hadn't appreciated the critique. He tugged; tried to lead Jacques for the door.

"Wha… No, no, don'—" They were tripping over their own feet. Half-dragged. Can't pull away, can't see straight, can't—

They stumbled and fell as they were shoved.


	20. Day 22

Whumptober Day 22: Hallucination  
Superhero AU  
Warnings: Hallucinations, Swearing  
Characters: Shawn Flynn (Toymaker), Antisepticeye (The Glitch)

* * *

He'd thought he was safe. His apartment was his safe place. No one was supposed to be there. No one. Not even his partner. They'd agreed on that a long time ago: Only in emergencies were they allowed in one anothers' apartments.

Shawn clutched at his head when the static raised in volume, tried to squeeze his eyes shut against it. Where was the Glitch? Where had he gone? Shawn couldn't hear him over the crackling in his ears.

"What do you want?!" He wasn't sure the words even came out. He couldn't hear his own breathing, his own heartbeat, let alone his own voice. "Where are you, fucker?!"

His breathing was heavy as he whirled around blindly. Was he still even in his kitchen? Had he stumbled into another room? Where was the Glitch? Where the hell had he gone? He couldn't see anything. The static—

_Now, now, Plaything._

The voice was in his head. He couldn't hear anything over the static in his ears, and yet there was the voice. Pushing it aside with ease to be heard over it without removing the noise itself.

"If you're just gonna go on the same rant y'gave Bloodhound, save your breath," Shawn growled. "He'd told me already."

_Ah, pity._

The static popped and Shawn flinched. It was getting too loud.

_But my point still stands. I'm getting tired of you two jumping sides. Pick one and be _done_ with it._

"Done" was emphasized with a harsh shove from behind. Shawn whirled around, ink flowing from his fingers and searching blindly for the Glitch.

_Keep it up—_

"And we'll stab each other in the back. Yeah, yeah, you've given this spiel already. Get the hell on with it," he spat. He wanted the Glitch out of his head and out of his apartment.

_Oh, you're a mouthy one, aren't you?_

He could hear the grin in that voice.

_You've heard it all before, but…you've thought of it too, haven't you? Admit it, Doll._

Hands on his shoulders, holding him firmly in place when he tried to jerk away.

_Think about it. You get on each others' nerves, don't you? You can't tell me you haven't imagined it. The betrayal in his eyes, the way he'd be fighting for air as that ink drowns him. It would make for such the scene. All over the news, hmm? Everyone would know what you're capable of._

Shawn swallowed. "He…No. He's my partner."

When the static in his ears went away, vision cleared, he stumbled.

The Glitch was standing right there. Right in front of him. He could only see the man's eyes behind the hood, the bandanna, but in those eyes was a smile.

_Think about it. I look forward to your decision._

And out the window he went.


	21. Day 23

Whumptober Day 23: Bleeding Out  
Not an AU  
Warnings: Blood, Knives, Drowning, Major Character Injury  
Characters: Jackieboy Man

* * *

Anti had finally left.

But he couldn't move. Where was his phone?

He couldn't stop coughing. He felt blood bubble up his throat. Tears in his eyes, body aching, burning.

He was tired. So tired. He just…wanted to sleep.

A whine surfaced in the hero's throat when he tried to move. He had his hood on, didn't he? He was so cold. So cold, while the wounds felt far too hot. They were burning. Why were they burning? He wanted them to stop hurting.

It was hard to breathe. He could hear his own breath rasping.

Trembling fingers touched the hilt of the knife; the only part visible, blade buried between two ribs. It had pierced a lung. He was sure of it.

When Jackie coughed again, red stained his lips.

He was drowning in his own blood.


	22. Day 24

Whumptober Day 24: Secret Injury  
Not an AU  
Warnings: Character Injury  
Characters: Silver Shepherd, Jim Twins

* * *

No one could miss the creaky floorboard.

Every time it was stepped on, Incorporated would change its location so none of them ever knew which spot to avoid. Bing called it trolling. Shepherd just saw it as a way for the building to tattle on the others even when it was in a "sleep" state.

Shepherd grimaced when he heard the creak.

"Hello?" came a voice from the living room. When he left this morning, that would have been the kitchen. Had Inc already gotten bored with its (honestly fairly new) layout?

One of the Twin's faces—Jimmy, maybe? It was hard to tell in the dark—appeared over the back of the couch.

"Silver! It's late!" said the other. Shepherd couldn't see where he was sitting. "Thought you were gonna stay at Roxanne's again?"

The hero swallowed, forced himself to stand straight, and peeled his hand away from his aching side. Fortunately it was dark enough they couldn't see the furrow in his brow, the way he grit his teeth.

He forced a smile. "Didn't want to wake her. Just, uh. Gonna crash in my room here tonight." Can't make it to her place, he thought. He could feel the bruise blossoming across his ribs and chest; it hurt to walk and even just breathe.

Ice. He had ice in his room.

He slipped out with a hiss before the Twins could make him stand there any longer.


	23. Day 25

Whumptober Day 25: X (different prompt chosen)  
Alternate Prompt 8: "Stay Quiet"  
Mirror AU  
Warnings: None  
Characters: Darkiplier, Schneeplestein Kids (Elias & Emil)

_(( once again, I have to say this is a weird AU to write; Dark especially my god._  
_Chase's kids don't exist in this AU, and I instead write for Henrik's ))_

* * *

The twin boys were faster as the three of them ran. Good. That's what Dark had hoped for as they cast a glance over their shoulder.

Three Ipliers—the King, Bing, the doctor—were somewhere in the building.

It was supposed to be a safe house. Somewhere the two kids who should have never been part of any of this could hide away until it was safe for them again. The members of the Hideaway had been worried about Henrik finding them, Chase, Jackieboy—any of them would kill the boys. They'd seen too much. Heard too much. They were a potential liability in Chase's eyes if Henrik was to ever go soft for the boys—_his _boys.

They'd been so worried about the Septics finding the twins, none of them had thought of the Ipliers accidentally stumbling across them instead. Google's defenses of the home weren't meant to keep the other Ipliers out. Those three didn't even know of the twins, and now their tracking of Dark would lead them right to the Schneeplestein boys.

Elias looked near-tears as his brother tugged him along. Any time they looked back to meet Dark's eyes, they would nod and usher the two on with a finger to their lips.

"_Stay quiet," _they mouthed. Their aura was pulled close, silenced. Dress shoes abandoned to prevent the clicking of the heels.

Voices directly above them. Emil clamped a hand over his brother's mouth and backed them into a corner. Elias was shaking. So were Dark's hands.

"_Keep going," _they urged. They needed to get far enough away from Bing that Dark could call the Hideaway without alerting those three.

* * *

**AN:** _I could have sworn you used to be able to strikethrough text on this site? Did it get nerfed? Or am I remembering wrong?_


	24. Day 26

Whumptober Day 26: Abandoned  
Monster AU  
Warnings: Amnesia, Major Character Death  
Characters: Chase Brody, Ego Central

_(( these actually hurt to write- ghost!Chase has a pretty rough time ))_

* * *

"…Marv? Come on, man, this isn't funny."

Chase could feel the unease prickling up his spine when no answer came.

"Marv?" His voice echoed through the empty halls. The building creaked but Chase ignored it as unease spiked into anger. "Marvin!"

Gritted teeth, eyes squeezing shut. No, no. Don't get angry, he reminded himself. He no longer needed the air, but he took a steadying breath anyway.

Okay. Clear head. Don't be like the spirits who let their anger get to them. You're not violent. You're not dangerous. Don't let yourself become like them. He repeated the thought. Then again. Until the anger ebbed away.

Marvin had just gone out. For…for…

What had he gone out for again? Or was that last week? Month?

What year was it again?

Chase pressed his hands to his face and groaned. Central creaked again; he ignored it. What was Marvin doing? And where was Henrik for that matter? He pressed his fingers against his temples.

No, no. Henrik wasn't there anymore. He'd been turned. He'd left to keep Marvin safe…a while ago. He couldn't remember when that had been anymore. Marv was still human. Sorcerer, but human.

…Right? Was Chase forgetting something?

"Central. Where is he?"

The lights flickered.

"…No. No, he's not."

The pattern repeated, now accompanied with groaning floorboards.

Chase swallowed and clenched his fists. "Don't _fuckin' _lie to me. Where the hell is he?"

A third time, the same answer.

"Stop lying!" His voice cracked as he shouted. "He's not dead! He's not! He can't be! I-I saw him just—"

Just when? Yesterday? The day before? The week?

"Don't lie to me."

His hat flickered out of existence as he knocked it off his head. His hands found bleached curls and tugged as he tried to think.

"Where is he? Central, tell me where he is!" A sob broke his words, while the building only repeated itself a fourth time.

"He…he's not. He promised he wouldn't leave me alone. He _promised!_"


	25. Day 27

Whumptober Day 27: Randsom  
Superhero AU  
Warnings: Kidnapping, Knives, Character Injury  
Characters: Antisepticeye (The Glitch), Jameson Jackson (Stopwatch), Chase Brody (Bro Average)

* * *

"Okay, okay, just put the knife down."

Average could feel the other heroes behind him, hovering, eyes locked on the screen in their little commons room. The Glitch's powers kept corrupting the recording, making it skip, glitch, and repeat; his voice carrying through the speakers crackled and static popped loud enough to make Average grimace.

Bing's fingers tacked furiously at a keyboard as he worked on finding the origin of the live video. His visor was flipped up to reveal eyes narrowed in focus, the rest of his face hidden by a metal mask.

One the other side of the screen, Stopwatch was tied to a chair. He was blindfolded, hearing aids laying useless in his lap, a military-grade inhibitor clamped around his ankle to prevent the use of his powers.

Despite it all, despite the dark bruise on his jaw and the cuts torn into his suit, he still bared his teeth when the blade was pressed to his throat. Bared his teeth, let his hands curl into fists where they were pinned at his sides; he was challenging the Glitch.

"_You want him back?"_ the villain hissed, slapping Stopwatch with an audible _crack_ when snapping teeth nearly caught his hand. _"I've got a deal for you."_


	26. Day 28

Whumptober Day 28: Beaten  
Mirror AU  
Warnings: Violence, Broken Bones, Major Character Injury  
Characters: King of the Squirrels, The Host

_(( Mirror!King has caused a lot of damage in his universe… time to turn the tables :3 ))_

* * *

Without eyes, the Host was no longer susceptible to the King's…well, not-quite-mind-control, but close enough.

That had been quite the discovery.

To say the King was furious was an understatement.

The older Iplier could only bare his teeth in a snarl. His crown had been knocked away, cape thrown aside after it had nearly tripped him twice. He felt so much smaller without it. He was certain his left hand was broken; how wonderful on top of bruised ribs and a black eye.

The Host grinned a toothy grin as he spun his bat. He'd gotten cocky since his days as the Author.

Raising his good hand into a fist, the King ignored the screaming of his chest.

"Well?" he growled.

"Well?" Host parroted. The grin never left his face. "Top dog isn't so used to being beat, now, is he?"

The next swing was far lower than he'd anticipated. King howled as the bat striking his knee made it crunch, leg buckling beneath him.

"Stick to 'your kingdom,'" Host's mouth twisted with distaste at the phrase, "and leave us alone."

The sound of aluminum striking a skull echoed down the abandoned street.


	27. Day 29

Whumptober Day 29: Numb  
Superhero AU  
Warnings: Character Injury, Frostbite  
Characters: Jackieboy Man

_(( not sure if this one will be canon to the AU or not, or if it'll just remain a one-off ))_

* * *

By the time they were forced to split with the threat of approaching authorities, his opponent taking off down a crowded street while Jackie flew straight up into the air, his eye had completely swollen shut.

By the time he'd reached the entrance to the apartment complex, his fingers were stiff. At that point, he wasn't sure if it was from the cuts and bruises marring his knuckles or the biting cold of a harsh winter.

He stumbled, shivering, into the complex. His backpack, with the recognizable parts of his suit and weapons stuffed inside, was too heavy. Far too heavy. The straps bit into the knots in his shoulders, into the bruise he could feel blossoming across his clavicle. Couldn't help but sag under its weight. His legs felt like jello, burning from the frozen air and running.

When he got his key out he dropped it not once, but twice. His fingers were numb. His hands wouldn't quit shaking. They didn't want to cooperate.

Costume needs more layering, he cursed himself. Everything was stiff and sore and his nose and fingers were numb, teeth wouldn't stop chattering.

Close and lock the door, drop your stuff off in your room, clean up in the bathroom. Keep moving, you'll warm up in no time now that you're home, he thought. His flatmate was home; Henrik's light was on, but the door was closed. Don't let him catch on. Keep him safe; don't let him figure out what you were doing.

Jackie shook his arms out to try and get some feeling back. He was still freezing. The strings of his hoodie were stiff with frost, as was his hair. He tossed his backpack behind his door, peeled thin gloves off with a wince.

What he saw beneath had his heart lunging into his throat.

Blackness had started creeping over the tips of some of his fingers.

"H…" His voice broke, his throat was too raw from the frigid air. "H—enrik?" he managed to croak. "Please…help."


	28. Day 30

Whumptober Day 30: Recovery  
Superhero AU  
Warnings: Swearing  
Characters: Jackieboy Man, Dr. Schneeplestein

_(( I wrote these kinda out of order; didn't mean to have hero-verse Jackie as whumpee two days in a row. It just…happened. My bad ^^"  
At least this one is funny ))_

* * *

The fingers prodding his shoulder were gentle, but he couldn't help but try to pull away. Damn did it hurt a whole freaking day later. Wonderful. "Oh, sit still."

Jackie couldn't help the irritated huff to leave him. "C'mon, Hen, I got a client! I need to—"

Henrik's flicking fingers catching him on the forehead cut him off. His roommate was giving him _that _look. He hated that look. An arched brow as he stared over the rim of his glasses? Dammit, Henrik.

"You injured your arm and shoulder. You are crazy if you think I will let you hunch over your computer all day."

"But…I need to start on that website!"

"You have not accepted the commission yet. It can wait."

Jackie crossed his arms and sank deeper into the couch cushions. When it only made Henrik laugh as he turned away, the younger man grumbled under his breath.

…Only to grimace at being caught when something was thrown at him from behind: A little stuffed figure from the shelf behind the couch. How the hell did he reach that?

"I heard that!"

"I just wanna—"

"_Rest. _A day off, yes? I am going to make you an appointment with a chiropractor."

He did his best not to wince when he moved. Okay, yeah, maybe his shoulder was stiff. But that didn't mean he couldn't go to his room and get some work done. His little side gig didn't exactly pay the bills.

He flinched when something pressed against his shoulder.

Oh. heating pad.

"Hen, I just—"

"Jackson Manning." Jackie ducked his head sheepishly. "You were thrown down a flight of stairs. For the love of fuck, _rest."_


	29. Day 31

Whumptober Day 31: Embrace  
Not an AU  
Warnings: Major Character Injury, Blood, Slash/Stab Wounds  
Characters: Jim Twins

_(( I used a list randomizer to decide who'd get it for this one after having a friend suggest the circumstance since I was running out of ideas ))_

* * *

It was rare that the Twins found themselves split up. Work was about the only time, if they were totally honest. They were practically attached at the hip!

It was about time to wrap up the news day; Wilford had to get ready for an interview as soon as Jim was done with his report.

Jim was smiling bright at the camera positioned on Will's shoulder. There were papers spread in front of him, greenscreen behind him showing whatever news stories he went over on the screens in front of him, out of the camera's view. He laughed. It was a cute story this time. At least, he thought so.

"And—"

Jim gasped and doubled over. His aura lashed out, staining part of the desk and his chair deep red, as anxiety clawed up his chest.

"Jim?" Wilford lowered the camera. He had a brow arched.

It felt like he'd been…

Stabbed.

Oh, god.

His chair teetered backward when he lunged to his feet, ignored Wilford, ignored Inc when it gave a questioning flicker of its lights. His brother. He needed to get to Jimmy. What _happened?_

He tripped going up the stairs, skidded around a corner to find Incorporated had shifted for him to make the route shorter. The exit was there. Right there. His brother. He'd been reporting weather…somewhere. Somewhere in the city beneath Inc's hill.

Where? Restaurant. He'd been reporting near a restaurant. Which one? Nearby. Just out of Inc's view from the hill. It hadn't seen. It didn't know what happened. It would have alerted its occupants had it seen.

Call him, listen for the ringer. Over there.

Bim had been his cameraman. He was unconscious. The camera had broken when he dropped it. And—

Jim skinned his knees as he hit the concrete at his brother's side. He cupped Jimmy's face, couldn't even understand himself as frantic nonsense tumbled from his mouth. Jimmy was bleeding, dress shirt soaked with red, concrete around him stained much the same.

He tugged his brother's shirt up: Torn skin, a gaping hole in his gut.

Jimmy whimpered, grabbed his wrist as he fumbled with his cellphone to call Wilford to teleport them, Doc to prepare his clinic.

Without second thought he slipped off his blazer and pressed it to his brother's stomach. Why were _his _hands shaking? Jimmy was the one hurt!

The chain that connected to Jimmy's wallet was gone and wallet probably with it, his phone laying broken a few feet away. His arms and hands were covered in cuts; he'd tried defending himself.

Jim wrapped his arms around his brother to pull him to his chest. A hug, anything to try and comfort Jimmy while they were forced to wait there. "Will's coming," he soothed. "He'll get here." Was he saying it for Jimmy or himself? He really didn't know.

No answer besides a wet cough. He wasn't sure why he'd expected one.


End file.
